


Working Definition

by amfiguree



Category: Backstreet Boys, NSYNC, Popslash
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-23
Updated: 2014-01-23
Packaged: 2018-01-09 18:21:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1149291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amfiguree/pseuds/amfiguree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They met two months ago at the music school where JC teaches, when AJ took Baylee to his guitar class because Brian was out of town on some promotional tour for his latest album and Leigh was down with the flu.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Working Definition

AJ can always tell when JC is tipsy.   
  
He’s big on physical contact, for one thing, especially in public. His eyes go soft, kind of unfocused, and he becomes pliant. Extremely, incredibly pliant. It’s something AJ’s tested on more than one occasion.  
  
JC’s also a lot less aware of the fact that he’s terrified of needles, which is the only reason he agreed to accompany AJ to Chris’ tattoo parlor. And the reason he’s still on his feet by AJ’s chair, one arm draped over AJ’s shoulders, his mouth moving gently over the shell of AJ’s ear.   
  
The way AJ sees it, there’s no reason to waste a good opportunity. He tilts his head a little, and reaches his free hand over so it grazes the shadow of JC’s hipbone. “You could get one too,” he murmurs lowly, lips quirking into a lazy smile when he feels JC shudder against him. He isn’t thinking about the consequences right now. “Something small. Right here.”  
  
“This is, like, your eightieth tattoo,” JC replies, as his hand slides up into AJ’s hair. His eyes are only half-open . “You have enough ink for the both of us.”  
  
“You’d be doing Chris a favor,” AJ says, turning his head so he can look at JC. JC, with his slow, goofy smile, and his soft, sleepy eyes. A slow heat builds in AJ’s stomach, and he twists up for a kiss.  
  
“Jesus, you two,” Chris mutters, as he swipes at AJ’s arm with a cloth, and AJ actually winces. “Does the sign say ‘free motel services’? ‘Cause I’m pretty sure I took that one down last week.”  
  
“You sure you’re not getting one?” AJ asks, against JC’s warm lips, ignoring Chris entirely. He protests mildly when JC pulls back to shake his head. “Do I need to be more persuasive?”  
  
“If you’re any more persuasive, I’m going to be distracted by my burning, scarred eyeballs,” Chris snorts, before AJ can lean in again. “Now stay the fuck still unless you want me to do this blindfolded. Or close the store and get my video camera out.”  
  
AJ’s used to Chris after so many years, but JC is startled into a laugh. “Your video camera?”  
  
“Chris runs a porn website on the side,” AJ explains, rolling his eyes good-naturedly. “He’s supposedly straight, but the gay market—”  
  
“Is a very enterprising one,” Chris finishes. He shoots AJ a keen look. “You’ve been listening. Have you been taking notes, too? Are you plotting something? Like how to steal my booming internet business?”  
  
AJ just looks up at JC. “He’s just really deep in the closet.”  
  
“Watch it, wise guy.” Chris waves his tattoo needle threateningly. “Or not-so-wise guy, seeing as you _are_ making fun of the man doodling on your skin.”   
  
“Just try it,” AJ snorts. He settles back in the chair. “See if you get another referral from Johnny No Name. Now zip it, Kirkpatrick. Let me finish talking my -- talking JC into getting a tattoo.”   
  
AJ expects a retort, but all Chris does is grin and go back to coloring in his stencil. “Don’t think that’s gonna work out too well.”  
  
“What are you…“ AJ trails off then, as the answer to his half-finished question presents itself. JC is already curled up on Chris’ worn sofa, fast asleep.  
  
  
  
They met two months ago at the music school where JC teaches, when AJ took Baylee to his guitar class because Brian was out of town on some promotional tour for his latest album and Leigh was down with the flu.  
  
But AJ barely made it through the door before Baylee was throwing a tantrum, scrunching his nose and folding his arms petulantly across his chest. “Baylee,” AJ sighed, but all Baylee did was turn away from him to face the wall. “Okay, I deserve that.” There was no response. “Baylee, come on.”  
  
The last time something like this happened, Brian had taken Baylee aside for a talk, and when AJ passed them in the hallway five minutes later, their heads were bent close together, Brian running his hands in long, even strokes down Baylee’s back, Baylee’s smaller hands pressed to Brian’s cheeks.  
  
But Brian wasn’t around for this. And, unfortunately, there was no manual on things to do when a five-year-old’s favorite stuffed toy was left at home.  
  
AJ dropped into a crouch as he tugged Baylee back towards him, keeping his hands on Baylee’s shoulders. “Look, I’m sorry I forgot AJ monkey, okay? Honest mistake.” Baylee dropped his arms to his sides with a sniff, scuffing his shoe on the floor. He didn’t look at AJ. “Can I get you ice cream later to make up for it?”   
  
Baylee hesitated, and AJ cracked a half-smile. “And a banana for your monkey?”   
  
Baylee finally nodded, and AJ spread his arms. “Okay, now get in here and give me a hug.”   
  
AJ looked up briefly when Baylee’s arms went around his neck, and happened to catch JC’s eye. JC was sitting on a small stool at the head of the class, a guitar in his lap, obviously watching them. He smiled once he realized he’d been caught staring, and AJ found his lips quirking in reply.  
  
  
  
AJ slouches against a wall at the back of the class, hands dug deep in his pockets as he observes JC’s class. Okay, he’s mostly focused on JC, but he watches the kids occasionally. When they come into his line of vision. Like when JC leans over to adjust Brianna’s fingering, or to tune Jamie’s guitar, or to give Baylee an encouraging smile.  
  
“Okay, kids,” JC says a while later, as he puts down his guitar. “I think that wraps it up for today.” He shifts so he’s sitting beside Katie, one of the girls AJ’s noticed is a little slower than the rest of the class. “You guys sure are real quick learners,” JC continues, as he shoots Katie a smile. “I’m gonna run out of things to teach you if you keep this up.”  
  
AJ catches himself smiling at that, watching as Katie offers JC a slow, shy shrug. He pushes himself up off the wall as the kids start packing up, and heads over to JC. “Hey.”  
  
JC looks at him for a second, then turns away and starts packing up as well. “Hey.”  
  
AJ raises an eyebrow at JC’s back. “Thanks for coming, honey,” he says, filling in the silence. “Just give me a minute to pack and I’ll be right with you.”   
  
JC doesn’t look up, and AJ frowns. “Hey,” he tries again. “Come on. Talk to me. What’s going on?”  
  
When there’s still no response, AJ touches a hand to the base of JC’s neck. “Hey…” JC shrugs him off almost immediately, and AJ knows this is big.  
  
It takes another second for JC to turn around. His teeth are clenched, and his arms are folded. “You took me to a tattoo parlor, didn’t you?”  
  
For a split second, AJ freezes, and JC’s eyes flash. “Did you try talking me into getting a tattoo?”  
  
 _Oh,_ AJ thinks weakly. _That’s what this is about._  
  
JC wrings his hands when AJ still doesn’t reply. His voice is sharp. “You _know_ I’m not – why would you do that?”   
  
Finally, AJ opens his mouth, but his voice dies in his throat at JC’s expression. His reason seemed pretty logical at the time. Unfortunately, that logic doesn’t look like it’ll hold up in the face of JC’s anger.  
  
“That’s all you have for me?” JC demands, after another minute of silence on AJ’s part. “That’s it? No clever comeback? No excuse? You’re not even going to _try_ to defend yourself?”  
  
“No,” AJ mutters, uncharacteristically. “This is it.”  
  
“Jesus, AJ!” JC snaps, as he grabs his guitar case and slings it over his shoulder. He brushes past AJ without another glance. “Don’t look me up until you’ve grown a brain.”  
  
  
  
AJ didn’t even wait till the end of class to ask JC out for a coffee, and JC didn’t hesitate before agreeing. Brianna had been bugging Baylee to hang out at her place for weeks by then, and the Fatones were all too happy to finally have him over. JC was still putting his stuff away when AJ came back into the classroom after saying his goodbyes and promising Baylee an ice cream feast soon.  
  
“So, cat,” JC said conversationally, glancing at AJ over his shoulder as he zipped his guitar case closed, and AJ’s eyes were drawn to the movement. “You play?”  
  
“Used to,” AJ replied, with a wry smile, flexing his fingers a little. It’d been a while.  
  
“Good enough,” JC nodded, with a smile of his own. AJ felt warmth pool in his stomach. He surprised himself by thinking about how much he was looking forward to this.  
  
Twenty minutes later, they were at a small café near the school, both nursing decafs. The conversation was easy, and AJ figured the attraction was mutual from the way JC had been casting long, appreciative looks at his tattoos. “Has anyone ever told you that a tat would look great on you?”  
  
JC startled, then laughed and shook his head. “Uh huh,” he murmured, before taking a sip of his coffee. “Of course you’d say that. Look at you.”  
  
“I’d say you’re doing that enough for the both of us,” AJ replied, slyly. JC smiled into his coffee cup, but he didn’t avert his gaze. Oh yeah, AJ definitely had an in. “You know, you could get one right here,” he added, reaching over to brush his fingers over the curve of JC’s shoulder. Lingered. “A tribal design, maybe. Of course, for all I know, you’re hiding thirty tattoos under that shirt.”  
  
JC was still smiling when AJ pulled back. “Uh, no. I don’t think so.”  
  
“Y’sure about that?”  
  
“I have this thing about needles,” JC replied, waving his hands dismissively. “So how many tattoos do you have?”  
  
“I’ve lost count,” AJ shrugged, and JC raised an eyebrow. “There’s this guy I go to. Let’s just say he’s a little… excitable.”  
  
Turned out JC used to know someone exactly like that, and as they traded stories, one cup of coffee turned into two, then into a walk, then dinner, and before they knew it, it was nine thirty, they were outside JC’s apartment and AJ had no idea where all the time had gone.  
  
“Well,” JC said, spreading his arms as they slowed to a halt. “This is me.”   
  
AJ looked up at the building, which had had oddly shaped windows, and stretched right up into the sky. And even in the dim light from the streetlamps, he could tell it was painted bright orange. He bit back a grin. It wasn’t exactly what he’d imagined, but it fit JC to a T. He wondered what the inside of JC’s apartment looked like.  
  
JC was watching him when he turned around, clearly hesitating about something, and this time AJ didn’t bother trying to hide his smirk. “You gonna invite me in?”   
  
“You gonna lose interest if I do?” JC countered, and AJ let out a huff of laughter, surprised. JC’s expression seemed to soften, then, and he used that moment to lean in close. He pressed a hand to AJ’s cheek before AJ could react, then slid their mouths together, hot and teasing, for a brief second. “Y’know, I’d rather not risk it,” he murmured, and suddenly AJ wasn’t laughing anymore.  
  
JC stepped away first, hiking his guitar case a little higher up his shoulder. “Goodnight, AJ.”   
  
AJ rubbed his palms over his jean-clad thighs as he tried to find his voice. “Night,” he managed to say, at last, and something must have shown in his face, because JC broke into another smile.   
  
AJ watched him go, and it was only when JC was almost inside that he thought to call out, “Hey.” JC almost tripped as he turned around, and AJ thought about how ridiculous this must look: two grown men acting like blushing schoolgirls around the basketball captain. “Your last class tomorrow ends at four, right?”  
  
JC ducked his head, swiping the back of his hand over his mouth. His eyes were bright and crinkled-up at the sides when he looked back at AJ again. “Yeah.”  
  
“Okay,” AJ smiled, then tucked his hands in his pocket and walked down the street. He had to force himself not to skip.  
  
  
  
AJ’s been fuming ever since JC left him hanging earlier that afternoon. He’s been walking aimlessly for hours, going over everything that he could’ve said, or done, to have things end differently. It doesn’t surprise him as much as it should when he finds himself outside JC’s flat a while later, his jaw clenched and his heart pounding. This is starting to feel like an old routine. AJ rings the bell before he can catch himself, and he meets JC’s gaze head on once the door is open.   
  
“You _drink_ ,” he seethes, “Right in front of me. Where the _hell_ do you figure you can get on your moral high horse and fucking judge me for taking you to a tattoo parlor?”   
  
“Don’t even go there!” JC’s eyes are narrowed, and, while he doesn’t slam the door in AJ’s face, he doesn’t invite him in, either. “We’ve discussed this, and you’ve repeatedly said you don’t mind. Going into tattoo parlors are a completely separate thing.”  
  
“How is it worse?” AJ bites out. “You’re fine, no permanent damages, and it’s not like there’s the possibility of you getting addicted to the adrenalin rush.”  
  
“You were trying to talk me into getting one!” JC fumes. “Is it wrong that I’m freaking out because you almost talked me into getting a fucking tattoo when I was _that_ out of it? And now you won’t even explain why? Are you even listening to me, because if you are, you’d know that all this sounds insane!”   
  
“Insane?” AJ barks out a laugh. “You think that’s insane? Insane is eight bottles of Jack Daniels and a hit of cocaine every night. Insane is walking off a building without a parachute strapped to your back. Trust me, this is nowhere close to insane.”  
  
JC’s cheeks are flushed, and his fists are clenched; he looks like he’s about to slam the shut door in AJ’s face. “The hell does that have to do with anything?”   
  
“Where the fuck do you get off calling _me_ stupid when you’re the one who doesn’t get it?” AJ explodes, at last. “We’ve been arguing in circles for two damn weeks now!”  
  
“What are you _talking_ about?” JC demands. “This better be the first damn time you’ve brought me to a tattoo parlor without at least telling me about it beforehand!”  
  
“This _is_ the first time, Jesus Christ!” AJ’s so frustrated he wants to hit something.   
  
“So explain yourself!” JC growls. “It would help if you were a little less cryptic every time we argued!”  
  
The fact that JC still doesn’t get it pisses AJ off even more. “What’s there to explain?” he asks. “Look, we never spend any time here.”  
  
JC snorts derisively. “Well I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but it’s not exactly the Ritz.”  
  
“You’re at my place all the time and I’d hardly call that the Hilton!” AJ says, accusingly. “You’ve met all my friends. Hell, you’ve met my mom!”  
  
“For all of five seconds,” JC states flatly. “On your webcam.”  
  
AJ can feel the anger swirling in his system, looking for an outlet. “That’s not the damn point!”  
  
“So tell me what the point is!”   
  
“God,” AJ exclaims, almost out of his mind with aggravation. “How the hell can anyone be this clueless?”  
  
“Oh, _I’m_ the stupid one, now?” JC sputters, indignantly. Then his expression dims, and he shakes his head as he throws his hands in the air. “You know what? You’re right. I am. I knew it was you at the door, and I opened it anyway.”  
  
AJ gapes at JC in shock. They’ve argued on more than one occasion – and the numbers seem to have risen within the past two weeks – but JC’s never ended an argument like this. JC’s just looking at him, almost numbly, and AJ snorts. “Fuck you, JC,” he mutters at last. “Just – fuck you.”  
  
“No,” JC replies, calmly. His mouth is curved and his eyes are cool. “Not tonight.” He sets his jaw. “Goodnight, AJ.”  
  
AJ stares at the shut door long after he hears the snick of the lock sliding into place. “Fuck,” he says, almost incredulously. Then he kicks the wall beside JC’s door. “Fuck!”  
  
  
  
It had been a couple of weeks since AJ had started seeing JC. They’d gone out almost every night since they first met. Usually, AJ hung around at the back of JC’s class till it was over before taking him out for dinner and – on occasion – a movie. It was the first time in months that he’d actually wanted to spend so much time around the same person. It felt amazing.   
  
Hell, *JC* was amazing. A little awkward, sometimes, but AJ had never met anyone like him. He was driven and talented and insane and… attractive. Hugely attractive. So attractive that AJ was starting to wonder why they hadn’t chained themselves to a bed and had their wicked ways with one another yet. At least, that was what he *tried* to wonder about, when JC wasn’t busy distracting him with random conversations and quirky antics.   
  
It wasn’t that AJ liked their unspoken waiting policy. He made that much clear. But it wasn’t like the sex was never going to happen, either, and there was so much to JC that AJ hadn’t explored yet, so the status quo worked out pretty well for him.  
  
“Hey,” AJ heard JC say, and he shook himself a little as he looked up.  
  
“Sorry,” he mumbled, returning JC’s smile. “What?”  
  
“Are you involved with the Secret Service?”  
  
“What?” AJ repeated, completely baffled.  
  
JC laughed. “I asked you about your job and you completely spaced out.”  
  
“Right,” AJ said, shaking his head at himself. “Sorry.”  
  
“I’m starting to think you’re hiding something from me,” JC confided. “I mean, two weeks and I still don’t know where you work.” He leaned his elbows on the table. “So tell me, cat, what do you do?”  
  
AJ couldn’t help it. He smirked, raising an eyebrow at JC. JC had the uncanny knack for making everything sound suggestive despite their current situation.  
  
JC rolled his eyes, but he was laughing. “I meant,” he corrected, “for a living.”  
  
AJ leaned back in his chair. “I’m a tattoo artist.”  
  
JC looked at AJ for a second, like he was trying to assess if AJ was kidding, and then he just tipped his head back and laughed. “I guess I should’ve figured, huh?”  
  
“Like every guy who wears ink instead of clothes is a tattooist, right?” AJ snorted.  
  
“True,” JC conceded. “So tell me about it. About your job.”  
  
“I’ve always preferred the showing to the telling,” AJ admitted. “If you want, I could take you on a tour of my parlor instead.”  
  
“You own a parlor? Impressive.”  
  
“It’s a small place,” AJ said, modestly. “Johnny No Name, maybe you’ve heard of it. I started it with two friends a couple of years ago and it’s taken off pretty well.” JC took a sip of his drink and nodded at AJ to continue. “I could show you the tattoo stations, our equipment, introduce you to Nick and Christina. Maybe even convince you to get a tattoo.”  
  
JC laughed as he shook his head. “I would have to be very, very drunk to let you convince me to do that, cat.”   
  
  
  
Someone’s waiting for AJ when he gets back to his apartment later that night. He squints, trying to make out who it is without giving himself away or turning the lights on, but it’s dark out, and AJ pitches forward when he trips over a chair. Right into Kevin’s lap.  
  
Kevin’s voice is dry. “Have you been drinking?”  
  
“No,” AJ snaps, humiliation and anger fueling him back onto his feet almost immediately. “I’ve been clean for four years. Would I really be that stupid?”   
  
“I don’t know,” Kevin replies, evenly, and when AJ turns around, he’s already on his feet, hands in his pockets and watching AJ like he can see right through his head. “Would you?”  
  
“Fuck off,” AJ mutters. He switches the lights on and heads into the kitchen, trying to ignore the fact that Kevin’s there as he pours himself a glass of water. But he’s filling a second mug out of habit before he can stop himself, and he hands that to Kevin, glaring at him the whole time. “What the hell were you doing anyway, sitting in the dark like that? Why are you even in my apartment? You’re supposed to have returned me my damn keys.”  
  
“Someone’s feeling friendly,” Kevin notes wryly, as he accepts the mug. “Must be a reflection of how things are going with JC.”  
  
“Fuck off,” AJ repeats, taking a long swallow of water so he doesn’t say anything else. He didn’t say anything at JC’s; he’s sure as hell not going to say anything now.  
  
“Ah,” Kevin replies knowingly. “Things are going that well, hmm?”  
  
“Kevin,” AJ warns. “Back off and let me fight my own battles. You know your white knight complex is _exactly_ why we didn’t work out. I don’t appreciate that trait in my friends, either.”  
  
“If anything, JC’s the one in need of rescuing,” Kevin retorts, sharply. “What were you thinking, taking him to a tattoo parlor?”  
  
AJ reels around, almost in shock. “What, are you two best friends now? Is he actually calling you up to tell you about _us_? Am I the only one who thinks this arrangement is fucked up? My… JC phoning you up to, what, ask you for relationship advice? Isn’t this what _his_ friends are supposed to be for?”  
  
“AJ, you’re--”  
  
“Oh, wait,” AJ continues, ignoring Kevin completely, and everything that he should’ve said to JC, everything he’d planned to, just comes out. “That’s probably because his friends haven’t heard too much about me. How much have they heard, you might ask? Well, let’s put it this way: in their world, I probably rank somewhere alongside, oh, I don’t know, _Santa Claus_.”   
  
“AJ.”  
  
“As in, I pretty much don’t exist. I don’t have the faintest clue what the hell I am to him. And that wouldn’t bother me if I didn’t have this incredibly _stupid_ idea in my head of what I want him to be to _me_. And I’ve hinted – Jesus, have I hinted--”  
  
“ _AJ_ ,” Kevin interrupts. “He doesn’t have any friends.”   
  
“--but he just doesn’t… what?” AJ blinks. He can’t have heard right. “What?”  
  
Kevin repeats himself, slower this time, like AJ’s skills of comprehension are no better than those of a five-year-old’s. But none of this makes sense. It just – it doesn’t make sense at all. AJ looks at Kevin blankly, and Kevin sighs. “He hasn’t been in LA long, you know that. And then there was that flood when he moved here and he hasn’t contacted anyone but his family in months.”   
  
AJ opens his mouth to protest, but Kevin just cuts him off. “And in between writing, and classes, and coming over here like some kind of personal maid service…”  
  
“He’s not my maid service.”  
  
“I know that.” Kevin raises an eyebrow, and AJ turns his glare on the floor. “So what else did you think him coming over all the time and cooking you meals and meeting all your friends meant?”  
  
“I don’t…” AJ trails off as the tension in his body starts to fade. He drops into a chair. “I don’t know.”  
  
“Well,” Kevin says, eyeing AJ critically. “The only time you ever get this stupid is--”  
  
“Don’t,” AJ groans, scrubbing his hands over his face. “Don’t say it.”  
  
There’s silence for a moment, then Kevin drops an arm around AJ’s shoulders. The gesture is almost sympathetic, which is how AJ knows this is a very, very messy situation. “You’ve really fucked things up, haven’t you?”  
  
  
  
The morning after their first time – otherwise known as the morning after The Incident – AJ made scrambled eggs for breakfast. JC was barely awake at the table, but he seemed to perk up a little when AJ kissed him and set their plates down.   
  
“This,” AJ announced, “I made using Leighanne’s secret recipe. So try to appreciate it? It’s not something you come across every day.”   
  
JC smiled sleepily at him in reply – the same smile that had made it so easy for AJ to press a kiss to his shoulder and roll out of bed earlier, without any of the usual morning-after awkwardness – and tucked in.  
  
AJ watched JC for a moment, then leaned over and slid a foot up JC’s calf. “How does spending the rest of the day in bed sound to you?”   
  
JC thought about it, then shook his head apologetically. “Amazing, but impossible. I have class in, like, an hour, and I’m not even dressed.”  
  
AJ rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Are you really choosing to plink on that guitar for a bunch of pre-schoolers over sex with me?” he asked, wryly.  
  
JC shot him a look.  
  
AJ couldn’t help but smile. “Seriously. Do you ever miss a class?”   
  
“I try not to,” JC replied seriously. “I haven’t been sick in, like, three years. So that works out pretty well.”  
  
AJ couldn’t help thinking that it was hilarious that falling sick was the only reason JC would skip a class. “What, you wouldn’t cut class for a date with the hottest tattooist on the planet?”  
  
JC shrugged regretfully. “Sorry.”  
  
“Ouch,” AJ whistled. “Talk about dedication.”  
  
JC couldn’t bite back his grin that time. “Talk about having to pay your rent on time.”  
  
AJ had seen JC’s resume, though. He’d graduated from the Bard College Conservatory of Music, and written and produced a fair number of songs for a couple of decent bands that AJ knew of. Brian had mentioned something about JC turning down the opportunity to record a track for one of the newer GAP ads, too, and Brian knew people in the industry – all the right people, really – so AJ didn’t doubt it.  
  
Which was why he didn’t feel *too* guilty when their getting naked in the shower was the cause of JC being fifteen minutes late leaving his apartment.  
  
  
  
The telephone is AJ’s best friend. Or worst enemy. He hasn’t decided which.   
  
Either way, he’s spent most of his time off work by his phone, alternating between pulling out his extension cord and sitting around chewing off his cuticles. He’s pretty sure JC’s screening his calls, because he got the answering machine both times he caved and tried calling JC up. They both know how AJ feels about leaving messages.  
  
But the situation’s starting to look desperate. AJ can’t focus. On anything. He’s almost screwed up three tattoos in as many days, and Nick and Christina are starting to worry about the news spreading and affecting Johnny No Name’s regulars.   
  
Christina has the sharpest tongue of anyone AJ’s ever met, and it’s no secret that Nick can kick the ass of anyone who pisses him off – has actually done it, once or twice. The three of them have been friends for as long as AJ can remember, and AJ figures that’s the only reason they’ve put up with his crap for so long.   
  
Each time he slips up, one of them takes him aside, asks him what the fuck he thinks he’s doing, and if he should really be at work. Each time AJ mutters, “sorry, sorry,” under his breath, gives the customer a discount and assures them that he’s fine.   
  
Except he isn’t, not really. Not when he hasn’t heard from JC in days. Five days, to be exact. Five days, three hours and forty two--fuck.  
  
Kevin’s right.   
  
He’s turning into a girl.  
  
  
  
AJ loved the fact that JC looked so comfortable in his home. There had been a couple of requests for elaborate tats in the last few weeks, so their routine had been readjusted to accommodate his new working hours. JC was at his apartment almost every day, and AJ was getting used to coming home to a warm kiss at the door and an actual, edible meal on the table. It felt... domestic.  
  
But he wasn’t as used to seeing *Kevin* with JC in his kitchen, though, debating the effects of a structured education in music on creativity. He tugged a hand through his hair as he joined them, saying, “Do I even want to know how this happened?”  
  
JC turned from his pot of pasta at the sound of AJ’s voice. He grinned and took a step forward, then glanced at Kevin and seemed to think better of it. “You’re home early.”  
  
AJ had never been one for propriety, though, and he leaned over to kiss JC without pause. “I forgot to free my schedule up when Justin cancelled his appointment for today.”   
  
“Is he the one I...” JC trailed off, looking mildly embarrassed.  
  
“Yeah,” AJ nodded, before reaching over to tug an errant curl back into place behind JC’s ear to let him know it was okay. He wasn’t going to grudge Chris a new, loyal customer; Justin would never have come back to Johnny No Name after The Incident, anyway. “I’m just gonna jump into the shower.” He shot a look at Kevin. “Be good.”  
  
Kevin’s mouth twitched, but he didn’t reply, and he was gone by the time AJ re-entered the kitchen, clad in a wifebeater, a pair of worn boxers and a towel around his neck. JC’s smile was as soft as the kiss he pressed to the corner of AJ’s mouth when AJ joined him at the table.   
  
After dinner, they curled up on AJ’s couch, JC stroking his fingers lazily through AJ’s hair as they talked about their respective days. “You should’ve seen the look on Christina’s face; she practically threw me out today. She keeps saying she’s going to seduce you if I don’t spend more time at home. I don’t think I’ve been home this early in, like, a year.” AJ shook his head when JC laughed. “I love what I’m doing, but the hours are crazy.”  
  
“Why do it then?” JC asked, sobering slightly. His hand slipped downwards, so he was tracing the outline of one of AJ’s tattoos. “I mean, in general. How’d you get so into ink?”  
  
AJ shrugged as he leaned into JC. “I guess I’ve always, you know, I’ve always wanted to make something out of nothing. Leave my mark.”  
  
JC drew a long line of kisses down AJ’s bare shoulder. “Nick told me about the etymology of the word tattoo,” he murmured.  
  
“The what?”  
  
“Etymology,” JC explained, in between kisses. His free hand was moving slowly over AJ’s thigh. “Where it came from. He said tatu is a Tahitian word. That it means ‘to mark something’.”  
  
AJ tipped his head onto JC’s shoulder, watching him. He brushed his thumb over the curve of JC’s cheek. “Yeah,” he said, eyes never leaving JC’s face. “In some cultures, the women used to tattoo their husband’s names on their arms.” AJ’s hand drifted to JC’s wrist. “Like their husbands were their masters for life.”  
  
JC looked up at that, and for a second, AJ felt the urge to ask him the strangest question. Then JC’s eyes sparkled. “You want to be my master for tonight?”   
  
The moment fell away, and AJ grinned as JC tugged him into the bedroom.  
  
  
  
Two days and a botched tattoo job later, Brian tells AJ that Baylee needs someone to drop him off at guitar class. Brian hasn’t been home in a month, and AJ doesn’t even want to think about what Kevin had to offer for Brian to agree to this. For everything that’s been said about their reasons for breaking up, AJ can come up with an even longer list of ways he and Kevin were good for one another. Of reasons they lasted as long as they did. Of reasons they’re still friends.  
  
He thinks about saying no, but he doesn’t need to give Kevin more ammunition. And if he’s being honest? He’s been hoping for any excuse to see JC again because he doesn’t have the balls to just go over and apologize.   
  
Baylee babbles at him the whole way there, and while AJ is usually all primed to listen, he can’t focus on the road, Baylee, and the butterflies in his stomach all at once. But it doesn’t take Baylee long to realize that AJ’s ‘hmm’ing isn’t an actual indication of him paying any attention to what’s being said. “AJ,” he whines. “You’re not listening to me.”  
  
That snaps AJ out of it, and he glances over at Baylee for a second. “Sorry buddy. Today’s kind of a weird day.”  
  
“Weird how?” Baylee wants to know.  
  
AJ flexes his fingers against the steering wheel. “Weird in a bad... nerve-wracking kind of way.”  
  
“Oh,” Baylee says. He’s quiet for a second, then he looks up again. “When I feel nervous, Daddy always gives me a pep talk to make me feel better. Can I give you one?”  
  
AJ shrugs, but he keeps his eyes on the traffic ahead. “Sure, kid. Go for it.”  
  
Baylee doesn’t speak again, and AJ’s just about to comment when he feels five small fingers close around his own. He turns to Baylee in surprise, but the boy just smiles and tightens his grip a little. It’s such a Brian thing to do, and AJ can actually picture Brian handling the situation the exact same way. The thought makes him smile.  
  
As it turns out, Baylee’s pep talk is appreciated, but unnecessary. JC isn’t there when they get to the classroom five minutes late, and when a sub walks in seconds later, the disappointment churns in AJ’s stomach as he takes his usual place at the back of the classroom.   
  
  
  
The Incident – and it did warrant the capital letter – was what AJ considered the turning point in their relationship. It was the reason JC had finally ended up in AJ’s apartment. In fact, it was the reason their sabbatical-like status quo changed. After everything, JC had asked if AJ had left his jacket behind on purpose. “What,” AJ replied, in amusement. “You mean, like bait?”  
  
Intentional or not, though, it’d worked.   
  
AJ was concentrating on a particularly tricky tattoo when it happened. Someone came up behind him and murmured, “hey,” right in his ear.   
  
AJ startled, then cursed as his hand slipped. Time slowed, stretched, and Justin’s scream felt like it came a lifetime later. Suddenly, blood was _everywhere_ , and AJ barely had time to make sense of it all before he found himself with an armful of unconscious JC.  
  
Thankfully, the situation didn’t take long to remedy itself, and AJ straightened in his seat as JC’s eyes fluttered open. “Hey,” he murmured, as he laid a hand on JC’s shoulder. “You okay now?”  
  
JC paused for a second, like he was checking for broken bones, or riding out a wave of dizziness, before he nodded. “Yeah. Fine. Just a little bruised. And a lot embarrassed.”  
  
AJ cracked a smile as his heartbeat began to slow. Tension was still coiled in his stomach, like a snake waiting to spring. “Don’t be. You’re not the first person I’ve had that kind of effect on.”   
  
JC rolled his eyes, but he grinned as he pushed himself up on his elbows. He blinked a couple of times, then glanced around. “Is this--?”  
  
“Yeah,” AJ replied, discreetly shoving an empty pizza box under his couch with his foot. “Sorry about the mess.” He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. “It’s right above the parlor, so I figured, y’know.”  
  
JC was sort of smiling, his gaze drifting to AJ’s hand, then to the column of AJ’s throat. “It’s cool, cat,” JC assured him. “How long was I out?”  
  
AJ shook his head. “Like an hour? I don’t know. Close.”  
  
JC flushed, then, ducking his head a little. “Sorry. I told you I’m not that good with needles.”  
  
“Didn’t tell me you were this terrified,” AJ replied, and JC’s head shot up.   
  
He studied AJ’s face for a second, like he was looking for something, but he must have found it, because he broke into a weak smile. “Yeah,” he said finally, shifting slightly on AJ’s couch. “Yeah, because that makes for really attractive dating material. ‘Hey, I’m JC, my favorite color is pink, I teach little kids how to play the guitar, and oh, have I mentioned that I have a phobia of needles?’”   
  
“Pink, huh?” AJ smirked. God, he had no idea if the thought was appropriate just then, but JC was fucking adorable.  
  
JC’s mouth curved in a slow grin, and AJ realized with a jolt that the tension in his stomach wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. And that JC’s fingers had crept towards the nape of his neck. And that they were so close that all he needed to do was tilt his head, just like that, and--  
  
And then JC’s mouth was warm under his own. AJ eased into it after a couple of seconds, experimental kisses turned languid, teasing. JC licked into the roof of his mouth, then, and AJ could hear it when his breathing quickened, heat sparking all the way up his spine. JC let out a low sound at the back of his throat, and the last of AJ’s self restraint snapped. He reacted without thinking, desperate to get closer to JC, any part of him, as long as he got *closer*.   
  
They pulled away a couple of seconds later, breathing raggedly, and JC’s eyes were so dark, and his clothes so rumpled, and his hair so mussed up, that he would be the perfect pin-up boy in a poster advocating debauchery. And AJ knew their waiting policy had expired. He curled his hands in the fabric of JC’s shirt, tugging him off the couch. There was no mistaking what was about to happen. “Don’t think you have to worry about the attractive bit,” he breathed, and the sound of JC’s surprised laughter followed them all the way into the bedroom.  
  
  
  
It’s two in the morning when the doorbell rings, so AJ isn’t feeling particularly charitable as he opens the door. “Whatever you’re selling, I don’t—C?”  
  
JC just peels the fabric of his shirt back a little as he turns around, and AJ comes face to face with his initials. Inked onto JC’s shoulder blade. Suddenly, he’s wide awake. “What in the—“   
  
“Kevin thought I should make you grovel,” JC interrupts, grinning over his shoulder at AJ like he can’t help himself. “He said you’d cave in a couple of days, which is why I kept away so long. But I guess, for some crazy reason, I have a soft spot for you.”   
  
AJ’s so engrossed in studying JC’s tattoo that he doesn’t even realize it when JC’s done talking. The ink is god-awful, and the craftsmanship… it looks like it was done by somebody’s Parkinson’s-stricken grandmother. AJ reaches out to touch it in disbelief.  
  
“This explain enough to you?” JC asks.  
  
For a second, AJ wonders if JC’s gone crazy. But when he pulls away, his fingers come away black, and his incredulity (concern; worry) softens into amusement (relief). He has to resist the impulse to roll his eyes when he looks up. “Is this why you weren’t at class today?”  
  
“Maybe,” JC says. “Yes.”   
  
“C’mere,” is all AJ says, before he curls a hand around the back of JC’s neck and reels him in.  
  
The kiss starts out slow, AJ’s hands tightening in JC’s hair as he nips at JC’s lower lip, and the realization hits him, fast and sudden; it’s been five long _days_ since they’ve touched each other like this. JC releases a quiet, helpless groan as he twists his fingers in the fabric of AJ’s shirt, hikes it up, and AJ can feel the tremor unfurling down JC’s spine. Someone makes a move – AJ can’t tell who – but then his back is pressed up against the wall, and they’re kissing in earnest, mouths colliding together, as hot and eager as their roaming hands.  
  
“So what do you think?” JC asks, breathlessly, when they finally pull away a small eternity later.   
  
“What?” AJ demands, feeling his heart start to pound as he watches JC lick his lips. His brain doesn’t comprehend anything right now that isn’t sex or activities that will lead to it.  
  
“The tattoo,” JC clarifies, clearly distracted himself. His hands are still clenched around AJ’s shirt, and they tighten even more as he moves closer, so he’s whispering right into AJ’s ear. “What do you think?”  
  
The heat in AJ’s body is so raw it _burns_ , and AJ lets out a low, needy sound. He bunches his hands in JC’s shirt and moves a step backwards, taking JC with him. JC’s eyes are dark with promise, need and some other emotion AJ will put a name to later. “Come inside,” he murmurs, “And I’ll show you.”


End file.
